Gnosis
by Angelic Sentinel
Summary: A small Voice calls from the Throat of the World, and the Dragonborn comes. One person can shape the world, but two can change the realms forever. Lore-based Flash fic.
1. Mixing Memory and Desire

**Hogwarts Castle, Scotland, United Kingdom, **

**Wednesday, 25****th**** of December, 1991 A.D. **

**Library**

Harry Potter had made his way to the Restricted Section with a sole-minded purpose: to find the information on Nicolas Flamel. The dark of the library gave him little light to see, but if he rose up his lamp, he could view the titles. These books were old. They had faded titles. Some of the spines were cracked, and one book looked like it was bound in human skin. Harry shuddered. Still another had an old red-brown stain. Harry didn't touch that one.

Covered in his invisibility cloak, he cracked open the spine of a small brown book that looked interesting. He'd found it hidden in the back of the bookcase, and he'd pulled it out almost as an afterthought. Still, he had to start somewhere.

It didn't seem to fit with the rest of the books. Most of the other strange books had letters he could understand, judging by their titles. This one held no title, merely markings that looked like scratches. He opened it up and saw more of the scratches, along with a title, _On the Cosmology of Mundus_. He didn't know what that meant. The book had neither index nor a table of contents. He continued anyway.

He flipped past the title page and read the elegant capitals on the first page.

"**IN THE BEGINNING…**

…**ANU** wanted to fill the Void, but Padomay had shattered the twelve worlds of creation. Anu and his children forged the remnants to create Nirn, but they didn't use them all. Some fragments Padomay knocked outside of space and time in his anger, and these became the Elder Scrolls. Others became relics of outside worlds. Each held power, but not all of their power was the same.

Some fragments the children of the blood—the Aedra and the Daedra—took for their own.

Daedra, being solely Padomay's blood and elements of chaos, surrounded Mundus with their fragments, blocking Nirn from Aetherius. The fragments the Daedra took became the respective Princes' planes of Oblivion: the Deadlands, Apocrypha, the Shivering Isles, and so on.

The Aedra, being of Anu's and Padomay's intermingled blood, helped Anu craft Creation. Most of their fragments became the heavenly planes of Aetherius: Sovngarde, where the souls of the heroic Nords celebrate their valor eternally, is one such realm. The god of this realm is Shor, better known to the elves as Lorkhan.

Shor tricked the Aedra into creating Mundus, the mortal plane, which encompasses Nirn and most of the other Aedric planets. In return for his trickery, the Aedra slew him, his body becoming the moons Masser and Secunda…

…**BUT** that is not the entire story of Creation: Another fragment knocked out of time and space floated in the Void. It caught the eye of Julianos, Lord of Wisdom and Logic and Contradiction. But Julianos could not form this realm into his alone, and called Magnus—who was magic in its basest essence and the Architect of Creation—to him. Still, together they could not do it. The new planet sat in the Void for infinity or for no time at all until they decided to seek out Akatosh, the head Divine and Lord of Time.

Intrigued by the barren planet outside the purview of Aetherius and Oblivion, Akatosh agreed to place the planet alone in Time to grow without Nirn's influence. However, Magnus had already infused the planet with ambient magic by having a hand in creating it.

As the years passed, Earth grew into a thriving world with a large magical community. Because Magnus had not torn a hole to Aetherius as he did on Nirn, not all people born on Earth had magical ability…

…**WHEN** some of Akatosh's children rebelled against Alduin, Akatosh gave them sanctuary here, and so the dragons came into this world…**"**

Nothing on Flamel. It was an interesting read, but it wasn't what he was seeking. Harry sighed and closed the book. He absentmindedly tucked it into his bag. He picked up another book from the bottom shelf. It was black, silver and heavy. He flipped it open, and it started screaming at him.

Panicked, he ran out of the room, extinguishing his lantern, barely dodging Filch. Snape was not far behind him. The cloak concealed him, but Harry knew they could hear his footsteps, so he ran harder. At night and without a lantern, Hogwarts confused him, and he wound up hopelessly lost.

Darting into an unused classroom, Harry slipped behind the door, breathing hard. He'd wait until Filch and Snape left the corridor. That had been a close call. Walking farther into the room, he saw something leaned against the wall. He moved closer. Tall and golden, it stood on clawed feet.

It was a mirror. Taking off his cloak and folding it neatly to one side, he walked towards the reflective side and gasped. Desperate flight from Filch forgotten, Harry Potter gazed into the strange mirror where dozens of his relatives surrounded him. They had to be relatives; most of them looked like him. Uncle Vernon, Dudley, and Petunia were conspicuously absent. _Maybe it showed the only the dead or the afterlife?_

In the center of the mirror were two figures that could only be his parents. His father had messy hair and glasses just like him. His mother had bright red hair and a kind smile. He waved shyly, seeing his parents' reflections wave back at him. He sighed, staring at their outlines, memorizing them. His father crinkled his hazel eyes, smiling proudly at him. As he flicked his eyes to his mother, she seemed to be holding out her arms, reaching for him. A hint of despair colored her bright green eyes as she looked at him. She placed her hand against the opposite side of the glass.

In that moment, he wished with all his heart for his mother. For someone to love him and take care of him. His very soul called out for the kindred presence of another. _She was dead, she couldn't be real, _he told himself firmly. He reached out his hand and then pulled back, afraid to touch the mirror. He shook his head and resolved himself. He was a Gryffindor. He would not be afraid. He touched the smooth glass of the mirror, placing his hand so it looked like it was touching his mother's.

She rippled and changed. His parents had disappeared. Staring at the mirror in shock, he saw a mountain, tall and proud and cold, beset by a blizzard. What looked like thousands of stairs curved their way around it. A lone figure climbed the stairs to the top, buffeted by the storm, but still soldiering gamely on.

He pulled his hand away, and the silvered glass coated the tips of his fingers, almost like mercury. As he moved his hands, it rolled across his fingers. Intrigued, Harry touched the mirror again, this time putting pressure on it. The mirror gave just a little. It felt like silk.

He pushed harder, and the mirror grabbed hold of him, pulling him in. He struggled, but the silver still cocooned him in its embrace, taking him farther in. He couldn't feel the bottom half of his body. As it reached his face, he screamed. The sound of drums pounded loudly in his ears. His soul burned. He heard singing.

His invisibility cloak lay forgotten on the floor.

* * *

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the intellectual property of J. K. Rowling and etc. The Elder Scrolls is the intellectual property of Bethesda and etc. Ergo, not mine._

**Please review! The tenth reviewer will get their choice of any one-shot prompt they want in either fandom! :) **


	2. A Voice so Thrilling Ne'er Was Heard

**Whiterun Hold, Skyrim Province, Tamriel**

**Fredas, 25****th**** of Evening Star, 4E 201**

**The Throat of the World**

"Wake up," Harry heard a warm voice saying in his ear. "Wake up!" He felt someone insistently nudging at his shoulder. "Wake up, lad, and get out of the snow. You'll catch your death of cold." He sat up, eyes still blurry. He felt something drape around his shoulders. It immediately blocked most of the cold wind that howled around him. The chill had cut right through his emerald green jumper.

"Thanks." He blinked owlishly through his glasses, looking around. He appeared to be on top of a mountain. Snow covered the ground around him. He could feel it melting, soaking through his trousers where he sat. Directly above him, the sun shone clear, but around the mountain, a storm blew fiercely. A tall elderly man in a hooded robe stood beside him. He didn't wear glasses, but his long beard reminded him of Dumbledore. It had a strange-looking knot in it.

"Are you all right?" he asked kindly.

"W-who are you?" Harry said, shivering. A shadow moved over him. He looked up, but he only saw a lone cloud. He stood up with the man's help, staggering in the snowdrift. The fresh, loose-packed snow was slippery, and it was hard to get traction with just his old trainers. The heavy weight of his school bag didn't help.

The man put his hand on his shoulder to steady him. "I am Master Arngeir of the Greybeards, young Breton. And your name?"

"H-harry," he said, teeth still chattering. "Harry Potter."

"Harry? Interesting name," Arngeir mused. "Yes, I can see that. With a name like that, you must be at the center of a lot of trouble."

"I do get into trouble a lot." Harry admitted. He thought about that for a moment. "What would my name have to do with anything?"

"Harry means to harass, you know."

"It's mostly not my fault! Things just tend to happen around me."

"I jest, child. But names do hold power. Let me take you back to High Hrothgar. It is far too cold to stay out here in the elements. A bowl of soup and some warm, spiced mead will do you a world of good."

"High Hrothgar?" Harry asked.

"You've never heard of it?" Arngeir asked. "How strange."

"No," said Harry. "Is it another part of the magical world?" he asked eagerly.

"The magickal world? I suppose it is. Nearly all of Nirn has magicka in one form or another." Arngeir readied a small flame spell in his palm.

"Wow! Can you teach me that?" Harry asked. The word Nirn sounded familiar, but he pushed that thought aside in order to focus on the more important thing: wandless magic! He thought about casually shooting fireballs at Malfoy. _That would make him think twice before being a bully!_

Arngeir nodded. "Perhaps." He cleared his throat. "Tell me, Harry: how did you end up on top of the Throat of the World?"

"What's the Throat of the World?" Harry asked.

"It is the mountain upon which you stand, child."

"Oh. I touched a mirror and fell through," Harry said.

"A mirror?" Arngeir repeated, thinking hard. "Hmm, I recall no legend involving mirrors, but I am one man, and Nirn is filled with wondrous things beyond my ken. Come now. We have much to discuss, and the skies will not remain clear for long."

They made it to the courtyard of High Hrothgar. Harry looked at the building in awe. The dark stone building was a stark contrast to the white of the snow covering the mountain. It looked like a small, square castle. Walking over to the edge, he saw the whole world before him. Tiny trees and large bodies of water dotted the landscape. At the far corner, what looked like another castle sat above a tiny walled city. The feeling was heady; it felt almost like flying.

"Come now, Harry." Arngeir said, opening the door. Harry followed him. High Hrothgar had a dimly lit interior. Arngeir led Harry to a small table, passing by three other men with long grey beards. One was on his knees as if in meditation. The other two looked like they were practicing some kind of spell. Arngeir introduced the three of them quickly: Brothers Borri, Einarth, and Wulfgar. They merely nodded as Harry passed by. Arngeir handed him a small metal cup with steam coming from the top and a wooden bowl filled with something that smelled heavenly. "Eat."

Harry did. As the first drops of stew hit his tongue, he realized how hungry he was, and he devoured it in short order. He immediately felt better. He hadn't had anything to eat since the feast at Hogwarts. He reached for his cup and took a sip. It was really warm and burned going down, but it made warmth spread to his toes. The drink tasted a little bit like sour honey, but it was still sweet. He could taste cinnamon in it, but he couldn't identify the other flavors.

"So, Harry. Where are your parents?" Harry looked down at the floor, the food in his stomach turning to lead. It hurt even more because he had so recently seen them. He used his spoon to move some of the vegetables in the bowl around. "I see. An orphan, then."

"Yeah," Harry said very quietly.

"From where do you hail?" Arngeir asked.

"I come from Surrey."

"I have never heard of that village. What province?"

"It's a county of England, near London." When Arngeir didn't respond, Harry continued. "Great Britain? The United Kingdom? Europe?"

"Great Breton?" Arngeir said, puzzled. "That is a name with which I am not familiar." He walked over to the shelf and pulled out a large roll of what looked like parchment. He spread it out on the table. "Can you point it out on the map?"

Harry perused it very carefully. "I don't see it," he said, face turning very pale.

Arngeir stroked his beard. "Then it truly is as Paarthurnax said."

"Paarthurnax?" Harry said, curious.

"He is the Grandmaster of the Greybeards. He's the one that found you."

"I don't remember seeing him," Harry said slowly.

Arngeir nodded. "You wouldn't have. He is very private. He said you appeared from _miiraak_, a portal. When he saw you were a child, he came to me. It is very curious that you are here. Perhaps Kyne had a hand in it."

Harry started to feel a little fuzzy. "You said that word before. What's a grey beard?"

"We are the Tongues, Masters of the Voice."

"Tongues and voices and throats?" Harry was a little confused, but the naming reminded him of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, just a little. He felt pleasantly warm and happy.

"Ah, of course you are unfamiliar with the terms. I shall endeavor to explain. Do you know what a Shout is? Or in the dragon language, a _thu'um_?

"Dragons? Dragons exist?" Harry said excitedly. "And they have their own language?"

"They do," said Arngeir with his infinite patience. "And yes, their own language as well. It is from them that the Voice comes. For dragons, their Voice is intrinsic—pardon, Harry, they are born with it—and they need not be taught language. Mankind had no Voice until Kyne, wife of Shor and the Divine aspect of the Wind and Sky, gave them the gift. It is said that she breathed Nords into life here at the Throat of the World. Later, when all the world suffered under the tyranny of the dragons, she again gave them the Voice, so that mankind would be able to defeat Alduin the World-Eater, the dragon king."

"So a Shout isn't when you yell really loud?" Harry asked.

"No. It's more like a concentrated spell of your essence: breath, voice, and life." Seeing Harry's blank look, he just shook his head and continued. "Perhaps it might be better to show you. This is the Shout of Unrelenting Force." Arngeir walked to the center room. He breathed in deeply, "_FUS_!" A visible burst of air came from his mouth and knocked over a jug.

Harry thought it was brilliant. "Could I learn that?"

"It takes years of study to master the Voice," Arngeir said. "If we cannot find a way to for you to return home, it is very likely you will remain here at the monastery, and so you will learn the Way of the Voice. We cannot offer you any childish pursuit, but you will be safe here. Skyrim is not a place for one so young."

Harry wasn't so sure. He had done many things on his own over the years. The Dursleys had taught him one thing. He knew how to take care of himself. Still, it would be absolutely amazing to learn something like that. There was nothing like it even at Hogwarts. He doubted he would be here that long, but he could learn a few things while he was here.

"_Fus_ in the common tongue means 'force.' You must meditate on the meaning, as you saw Brother Borri doing earlier."

Harry concentrated on the word of the spell Arngeir used. He concentrated on how it made him feel. He thought about force. Uncle Vernon and Dudley used force to get their way. How Hagrid knocked in the door at the Hut-on-the-Rock. He thought about the troll rampaging through Hogwarts after Hermione, how it crushed everything with overwhelming force.

But force wasn't just physical. He thought about how Snape talked down to his students. He thought about the Dursleys forcing him into his cupboard and trying to make him afraid. How they forced him to do chores with words and threats. He thought about his own force; his determination to succeed against all odds. Force wasn't always about who was the strongest. He and Ron had not only survived against the troll, they'd defeated it with a first year spell. Force was simply making your will stronger than the other person's was. That's why he wasn't afraid of Snape or Malfoy.

He was so focused he didn't hear Arngeir's gasp of surprise. He had his eyes closed, so he didn't see the wispy beams of light that surrounded him. For a brief moment, his scar pained him terribly. It almost felt like he was fighting himself. Suddenly, he felt something bubble inside him. He didn't know where it came from, but it was there all the same. It had to come out, one way or another. He heard the sound of thunder and the harsh chanting of song. He reached for the knowledge and pulled it close to him. He knew. "_FUS_!"

"Dovahkiin," Arngeir whispered. The ground shuddered. "Dragonborn. But how is that possible?"

"It was an accident! I didn't mean to!"

Arngeir looked at him with eyes full of wonder. "Two in the space of a single generation…That I have lived to see such times! The need must be dire, indeed!"

* * *

**Please review. That's commitment! **

**A lot of exposition, I am quite aware, but it has to be done, since this tale is mostly from Harry's POV. Looks like a four-day update schedule. Not sure how long I can keep it up once the buffer's gone, but we'll see. **


	3. Does the Eagle know what is in the pit?

**The Rift, Skyrim Province, Tamriel**

**Fredas, 25****th**** of Evening Star, 4E 201**

**Ivarstead, on the bridge to the 7,000 steps.**

Venaethel waited for the soul to spark, waited for the knowledge of the dragon to come to her. It did not. She shifted awkwardly on the bridge as the dragon decayed rapidly, incinerating itself into the aether. Nothing but the dead bones remained. Still no soul.

She was a pragmatic elf, so she slung her bow over her back and went to gather materials from its corpse. She wondered where it had gone. She didn't miss the fragmented way the knowledge entered her mind. She always had a headache afterwards.

Before she'd even started, she was pulled from her work by a whisper loud enough to make the ground shudder. "_Dovahkiin_." Whatever had just happened, the Greybeards knew. She'd been meaning to make her way to High Hrothgar again. This was as good a reason as any. Klimmek had another set of supplies he'd wanted taken up. She'd promised to do it, and she didn't give her promises lightly. Eyja had taught her that. She missed the old Nord woman fiercely.

The Blades had also mentioned a _thu'um_ that could defeat Alduin. She just couldn't ignore that, and the Greybeards were the only other viable source of information. She'd been avoiding it, though. It wasn't a journey made lightly, and she had her doubts about the Blades' sincerity. About Delphine. Accusing her of being a Thalmor spy just because she was Bosmeri! Slandering the Greybeards and the Way and then asking for her help! She clenched her fist. Her sharp nails cut into her palm.

The Blades were more than useless. They'd shown that at the death of Uriel Septim VII. They'd shown that against the Aldmeri Dominion in the Great War. They'd shown that when her mother's home had burned, and no one came, even though her mother had been a knight sister. No one had long memories these days, not even the mer.

Ven took a deep breath, forcing down her anger. It wouldn't help, and she could see no other way to defeat Alduin. She'd ask, but not for them. For the future of man and beast and mer instead. After giving her thanks to the Ivarstead guards for their assistance, she made her way across the bridge and started up the path again, deep in her thoughts.

She avoided the pilgrims on the lower levels of the mountain. She paused before she entered the tundra, looking back over the small village just to make sure that another dragon wouldn't try to attack Ivarstead. She already made this trip once and had been halfway up the mountain when the dragon attacked. Seeing clear skies, she moved on.

The wind around Ven blew hard and harsh and stinging as flecks of ice hit her face. Locks of her auburn hair whipped in the fierce wind. She drew her cloak tighter about herself. She hated the climb, hated the cold, and longed for the more temperate clime of Cyrodiil's West Weald. Her legs burned. Still she wove around the mountain, determinedly putting one foot in front of the other. A particularly strong burst tried to knock her off, but she held her footing.

Soon enough, High Hrothgar was in sight. She shouldered her pack more strongly and walked up the steps into the building.

"Arngeir?" She called out softly in the gloom. No answer. She called again a little louder. "Arngeir?" Still nothing. _He must be out in the courtyard,_ she thought.

Ven walked farther into the building, through the small hall and into the anteroom. She spotted Arngeir deeply enthralled in a discussion with a young boy. She took a brief moment to observe. The young boy had pitch-black hair and vibrant green eyes. He had round spectacles, rare for anyone outside of scholars. He had the hint of elven breeding showing through his high cheekbones. _A Breton, then._

"Arngeir?" she asked again.

"Ah, Ven. I didn't expect to see you so soon. I barely made the summons," Arngeir said. "The last time took a week or better."

"Last time I was in Whiterun. This time I was in Ivarstead on business," Ven replied, lowering her hood. "Who's this?"

"This is Harry. Harry, this is Venaethel of Skingrad. You have very much in common," Arngeir said. The child looked up at her, smiling shyly before she saw his eyes flick to her ears and widen. _Another person who was surprised the Nord legend was an elf_, she assumed. A scowl crossed her face. When he held out his hand, she ignored it.

"I fail to see what I could have in common with a Breton child, Arngeir," Ven said, perhaps a bit harsher than she intended. The boy's smile faltered. "What's one doing in High Hrothgar?"

"That is a tale indeed. He's Dragonborn and has come a long way."

"I do not appreciate being toyed with, Arngeir."

"I do not jest, _Dovahkiin_." Arngeir's voice became stern. "You of all people should know things can be more than what they seem. You and he share a destiny."

Ven turned to the child. "Prove it. Then I'll decide if you're worth knowing."

"I am worth knowing," Harry said quietly. "I don't have to prove anything."

"I'm sorry. All I heard was an inconsequential little bee buzzing in my ear." She cupped her ear, leaning towards him, and then waved her hand dismissively.

"I said I'm worth knowing!" Harry all but shouted, glaring at her as intensely as he could, clenching his hands as if he were about to take her on in all her armour with his bare fists.

Ven couldn't help it. She let out a big barking laugh, showing her sharp teeth. "You have spirit, boy! I like you. Maybe it is true after all." She held out her hand.

Harry took it as if he were waiting for her to do something else to him. "Don't be such a milk-drinker, Harry. I may look tough," she said, gesturing to her heavily painted and scarred face, "But I don't bite." Ven shook it heartily and then looked thoughtful, tapping her chin. "Not until I kill you, anyway."

Harry's brow furrowed. Arngeir shot her a look that seemed to be a mixture of exasperation and uneasiness. Nice to know she still had it. He could never tell if she were joking or not.

"Harry, could you Shout again?" Arngeir asked. "Towards Ven, if you will."

Harry nodded shakily. Ven watched as he spread his feet hip's width apart and squared himself. She planted her own. He focused, took a deep breath, and Shouted. "_FUS_!"

Ven held her hand out as Harry's _thu'um_ buffeted her. Looking up at him, she could see the sweat on his brow. It exhausted him quickly, then. Something the Greybeards would have to train out of him.

"So it is true. Very nice, Harry." She turned to Arngeir. "So how did he learn a Shout so young?"

"It is curious," Arngeir said. "I merely demonstrated it once, not to teach, but to show. He came to the knowledge on his own."

Ven tapped her temples. "Does this have anything to do with the dragon I killed down in Ivarstead? It died, but I didn't absorb its soul."

Arngeir nodded. "Yes. That would seem to fit, especially since you already have the knowledge of force."

"You killed a dragon?" Harry asked with wide eyes.

"Yes, I did," Ven answered.

"But why? Was it hard?"

"Because the dragons would enslave us all, man and mer." It was like talking to a babe. "And yes. It was very hard. They rarely take to ground, so it takes a keen archer to bring one down." She couldn't keep the proud tone out of her voice. She was the best archer in Skyrim, perhaps in all of Tamriel. So she thought anyway.

"Oh. What's a mer?"

Ven couldn't believe he didn't know what that meant. "Means one of the "people," an elf. Arngeir, where did you come across this child?"

"On the top of the Throat of the World. According to Paarthurnax, he appeared from a portal there," Arngeir said.

Ven looked at young Harry again. "Is that all?"

"No," Harry said. "Master Arngeir and I were just talking about it. I come from a place called Earth. He's never heard of it."

"Neither have I. Someone named your plane after dirt?"

"How is that any better than Nirn, really?" Harry asked.

Ven inclined her head in acceptance. "Fair enough. Harry, what are your plans?"

"Well, I want to go home," Harry said. "There's only about a week left of holiday before I have to return to school, and I didn't mean to end up here."

"As I have explained to Harry, it will probably take me longer than that to gather the research," Arngeir said. "The Greybeards do not have the resources of the Mages' College."

"But what would you do in the meantime?" Ven asked Harry.

"Master Arngeir said I could stay here, and he'd teach me more about magic and Shouts."

"Here?" Ven said dubiously. "I'm not sure a monastery is the best place for a child, especially one so sequestered as High Hrothgar. And Arngeir, wouldn't the College be a better place to research it? I'm only an apprentice, but I have access to the Arcanaeum, probably the best library in Skyrim. They let me research anything I want without question. I could keep his presence hidden."

Arngeir stroked his beard. "Yes, that could work. Please do. And as for Harry, it is up to him. Skyrim is not a safe place, but he could travel with you. Yes," Arngeir said firmly, "I'm quite fond of the idea. Who else to better protect him than a fellow Dragonborn? You follow the Way."

"No, no, no. This is definitely not going to work. I have enemies; the Thalmor keep sending assassins after me, not to mention Alduin wants me dead, the Forsworn, countless bandit groups…" Ven continued naming factions and ticking them off her fingers.

Arngeir interrupted. "Do you not have a place for him? One that is perhaps easily defensible?"

Ven hesitated, obviously wavering. "I…suppose. The Imperial contractors I hired should have finished all the additions to Lakeview by now, if they didn't skip out because I'm an elf. My mother's name obviously doesn't mean anything to them anymore." She turned to Harry. "Harry, how about it? Either they can teach you, or I can."

Harry was quiet for a long time, weighing the options. Finally, he nodded. "Yeah. I think I'd like to see Skyrim."

"Great!" Arngeir said. "Then it is settled."

* * *

**Yes, a female bosmer is the Dragonborn. Why? Plot reasons. And hey, cannibalism, so…Nah. Imperial lies. **_**Or is it**_**?**

**Oh, and from here on out, probably expect DLC spoilers, if you can call anything from Hearthfire that.  
**

**Name etymology: Venae meaning veins in Latin and Thel from "The Book of Thel" by William Blake. An allusion or an allegory or no connection at all? Life essence, will and wish and desire? Keep reading to find out. **

**Please review! It's good for the soul. If you're the twentieth reviewer and want the one-shot, please include your prompt in your review or in a pm. I like to offer incentive.**

**Also as an aside, I do running edits, but nothing that fundamentally changes the story.**


	4. Tis not too late to seek a newer world

**Whiterun Hold, Skyrim Province, Tamriel**

**Loredas, 26th of Evening Star, 4E 201**

**High Hrothgar **

Harry's past two days had been very strange. He kept thinking of that book, of everything that happened. He'd only read a little of it, skimming through it really, looking for any mention of Flamel. It had mentioned this place, though. Nirn. Now that he had a little time to think about it, it'd hit him. This place was another world. Thinking about it nearly took his breath away. He clutched his school bag closer to him.

He might not ever get home again. Arngeir and Venaethel had seemed enthusiastic about researching portals, but Harry just thought they were being like regular adults and hiding things from him. He'd seen the looks they exchanged when they thought he wasn't looking.

He was supposed to be sleeping, but the thoughts swimming in his head kept him awake. Venaethel and Arngeir had had an argument. Brother Einarth had to come in and talk sense into them. Harry couldn't understand the words, but it was the first time he'd ever heard Einarth speak, and Arngeir had told him later it was in the dragon tongue. He'd said his Voice was so powerful he couldn't speak normally. Harry wondered how Arngeir could speak normally, but he didn't offer the information, and Harry didn't ask.

Venaethel had left to go speak to Paarthurnax, but Harry had to stay at the monastery. He'd wanted to go, but he had blisters on his feet and ears from the cold. Arngeir was no proper healer himself, so he'd said. Arngeir had done what he could, but they would take a little time to heal. Venaethel had said she'd get him a proper set of gear, but until then, he had to stay inside as much as possible.

Harry guessed Venaethel was all right. She'd been harsh they first met, but she'd warmed up considerably afterwards when he had stood up to her. _Maybe it was against elven culture to look at their ears?_

Harry couldn't help but think of Venathel as wild woman. Her brown skin reminded him of Pavarti Patil in his year. Her eyes intimidated him a little. They were an inhuman shade of red-orange. Many scars covered the right side of her face, but they were hard to see, covered by one of three sharp slashes of blood red war paint. The armour she wore was shiny, but it had a lot of leather in it, too.

A door slamming jerked him abruptly from his thoughts. Venaethel came stalking through to the living quarters, all fire and fury. She tossed him a small bundle. "Harry, there you are. Get your things ready. We leave as soon as you are done. I'm tired of this place."

"Venaethel," Harry began.

"Call me Ven. I hate my name," she said with a scowl.

"Ven," Harry amended, "how did it go?"

A flurry of expressions crossed her face, so many that Harry didn't know which to decipher first. He recognized anger, fear, and a great, sweeping weariness of which he'd never seen the like. "Paarthurnax is a dragon."

"Oh," Harry said. He understood, at least a little. It would be like if Snape actually were a good person and not after the Stone. "He saved me. Arngeir said I would have frozen to death. I'd like to meet him."

Ven nodded. "He is not what I expected, not after fighting them for so long." She fiddled with the edges of her hood. "Most of what we talked about doesn't matter, but he talked a little about you. He said you came from the _Tiid-Ahraan_, the Time-Wound."

"What's that?"

"Apparently, it's a split in time or something that happened at the defeat of Alduin. Paarthurnax taught the _thu'um_ there to the Nords who defeated Alduin in the past, and that is where he saw them use it. He says he can't use it himself because he's a dragon. Their Voice is who they are, and their names hold what they are at their essence. They're immortal. They cannot comprehend mortality, and the Shout makes them mortal."

"Immortal? But you said you killed them!" She ruffled his hair. "Hey!" Harry yelped, trying to slap her hand away.

She caught his wrist and grinned. "Immortal doesn't mean invulnerable, you know." She gestured to the package she'd thrown him. "You gonna open that or not?"

Harry opened the bundle in his lap and saw the contents: thick furred gloves, a pair of boots, and a faded yellow hood that matched Ven's own. It was like Christmas all over again. People just didn't give him things. "Thank you," he said.

She brushed him off. "Don't need you getting frostbite or more chilblains, that's all. You're just lucky our feet are near the same size." Harry thought she was just being stubborn because she had a smile on her face. _Yeah, she really is all right._

The gloves were bigger than his hands, but the hood and the boots fit him comfortably. The hood was a strange thing. His magic seemed to flow through it and expand as he put it on. He put his trainers in his bag and shouldered it. "I'm ready."

"Let's go," Ven said, and then she cursed. "The supplies. Hold on, Harry. We can't quite leave yet." They made their way towards the center room where Arngeir stood in meditation.

"Now Arngeir, before I forget, here," Ven said tersely, retrieving a large bag from her rucksack.

"More supplies? You have my thanks, Ven. Kyne always provides for us."

"You're welcome." Ven scowled. "I also brought a few bottles of your favorite mulled mead. I shouldn't give it to you, since you're so content to let Alduin ravage Skyrim. I don't agree with the Blades, you know this, but I don't agree with you either."

Arngeir sighed. "I am not 'content' to let Alduin destroy Skyrim. It is as it was foretold and nothing more. The world will end one way or another, and the Shout merely postponed the inevitable. But I wouldn't say no to more of your secret brew. I've never had its equal in all of Skyrim."

Ven's face softened, and she nodded. "Effusive praise. Eyja would be happy to hear you say that, I think. It's her recipe." Ven's upturned lips were the first hint of a smile Harry had seen since she stormed in "She always wanted to come home to Skyrim." Then Ven grimaced. "It's better than that Black-Briar swill. Maven Black-Briar brews her mead drier than the sands of Hammerfell."

"Indeed?" Arngeir chuckled. Ven handed him the pack. "Farwell, Ven, Harry." He nodded at them. "May your journey be a safe one."

"May Julianos guide your path, Arngeir."

"Goodbye," Harry said. "Thanks for everything."

They stepped outside. The sun was only just beginning to crest over the horizon. As the cold hit Harry's face, he immediately started shivering. He wondered why Ven wasn't cold. Her armour left her arms and legs bare. His feet and hands had started to feel numb before Arngeir took him inside. Even the snowfall at Hogwarts hadn't been this bad. He wasn't used to this kind of biting cold. It reminded him of a wolf. It howled around the mountain and used sharp ice-white teeth to bite at him. The hood, gloves, and boots helped, but it still cut down to his bones.

Ven handed Harry a small golden-sheathed dagger. It looked dangerously pretty. The back of the blade had a a vicious notch. It had stylized wings on the hilt and an eagle head on the end. She taught him how tie it through his belt and draw it quickly.

Harry had seen how far the mountain towered over everything else, so he wasn't surprised when barely a quarter into the way down, he became exhausted. Ven kept nudging him forward. He was determined to make it to the bottom. About halfway down, he couldn't make it any farther. Because of his violent entrance into the world, the cold, and his lack of sleep during the night, his energy had drained completely. He had nearly fallen asleep as he walked.

He barely felt it when Ven moved her pack to the side and hoisted him up around her back, looping his hands around her neck and getting a good grip under his knees. The lull of her swaying steps put him to sleep, and the world faded.

* * *

**Over thirty followers in less than two weeks! I'm starting to feel like everyone's dirty little secret XD. Thanks, all! **

**Please review, too, because then good things happen. **

**Also a day late because of spotty internet. Sorry 'bout that. Cheers!**


	5. Man's inhumanity to man

**Eastmarch Hold, Skyrim Province, Tamriel**

**Turdas, 31 of Evening Star, 4E 201**

**En route to Winterhold College**

_Skyrim is beautiful_, Harry thought again. He breathed in deeply, smelling the difference in the air. It smelled strangely clean, and it didn't have the chemical tang he was used to. He didn't notice until it was gone. No cars burning petrol. No smog.

Here trees sparsely dotted the landscape. Little hot springs puddled here and there. The rocky terrain made it a bit hard to walk through, but Harry, never much one for athleticism other than a quick sprint to get away from Dudley, was doing quite well considering. He'd had to be fit to walk the distances between his classes in the castle, but that was nothing on this. They'd been walking for five straight days now. His boots had been conditioned to his feet, but he still had blisters. Ven refused to heal them and said he needed them to callus. His legs were jelly every night, but he was slowly getting stronger.

Ven'd also refused to let him ride Queen Alfsigr, her dark bay horse. She said they'd have lessons later. Granted, she hadn't ridden her either, but if they'd had, they'd already be at their destination. They needed to hurry. Ven had said it was more important for him to toughen up; he wouldn't survive Skyrim otherwise. After constant attacks by wolves and bears, Harry could see it, so he'd stopped feeling so resentful. He truly needed to build more stamina.

A short distance ahead Ven stopped. She'd drawn her bow and was aiming it slowly around. Harry didn't see anything. Ven had crouched, placing one foot carefully in front of another, making no noise at all. Harry envied her skill.

"Harry, stay behind me. Better yet, hide." Ven hissed from the side of her mouth. Harry didn't move. "Now!" Reluctantly, Harry crept off into some underbrush. Just in time.

"Behold the future! Behold the Thalmor!" A hooded man said as he cast a lightning spell at Ven. She dodged, but it still crackled along her skin.

"Behold the long-winded!" Ven said. She didn't have time to loose a shot before the man came too close, firing spells almost incessantly. Harry was new to battle, but he thought it clever. He thought it would have been even better if he hadn't announced himself.

Two other people with golden armour came crashing through the terrain. One of them circled around Ven, attempting to get her from behind. She spun, barely managing to block it with her bow. Pushing out with her weapon, she nearly threw it at him, forcing him down, giving her time to draw her wicked-looking black sword. Her right palm crackled with electricity.

The other two attacked her directly. The one who seemed to be the leader shot out spell after spell after spell, which Ven dodged. She used her sword to block one's strike and shot lightning at the one casting spells. The figure staggered for a moment before leaping again into the fray.

Harry could hardly watch. It was a deadly dance, lighting flying everywhere. Ven twirled and brought her sword down low, swinging at the man's legs. It left her right side vulnerable though, and the man got her on the unarmoured portion of her arm. He yelled in triumph as blood dripped from the wound. Ven staggered back from the blow, and the wizard closed in for the kill. The third figure she'd thrown the bow at seemed to have recovered and also moved towards Ven. Ven took a deep breath and had started to Shout before one bashed her with his shield.

Harry felt sick. Yeah, he'd only known Ven for less than a week, but she was currently fighting off three people by herself in order to protect him. This wasn't him. He didn't run away and hide from the troll. He and Ron had fought it. He'd leapt on his back to distract him. That gave him an idea.

"_Flipendo_!" Harry said, pulling out his wand. He barely made the man stagger. He ran towards the hooded figure, tackling his legs and knocking him down to the ground. The figure grabbed his throat, nearly squeezing all the air from Harry's lungs. They wrestled, the heavier man pinning Harry to the ground. The man knocked Harry's wand from his hand before he could think to cast another spell.

Fighting for his life now, Harry pressed on through the pain, unsheathing his dagger. With the last of his strength, he drove the dagger upwards as hard as he could. The man let out a roar of pain. The pressure on his neck lessened, and he could breathe again. He crawled from underneath the man's heavy weight, gasping and coughing and clutching his throat.

His charge had distracted the two other men, and Ven used that time to behead one of the swordsmen. "_YOL TOOR_!" she Shouted at the other. He let out a high scream as the flames from Ven's Shout caused him to roast alive, his armour conducting the heat and making it more effective.

With both of them dead, Ven moved to the injured man, who was holding a glowing hand to his torso and trying to remove the dagger with his other hand. A little bit of blood had dribbled from the corner of his mouth. He looked up and saw Ven standing over him. "No, please! Have mercy!" he said, scrambling backwards.

"Mercy is for those who've earned it," Ven said, and she ran him through.

Ven moved to help Harry up. Blood covered both of their hands liberally. Harry stared in shock at his hands, at nothing at all. He felt dizzy. A headache was beginning to form behind his eyes. He just stared at the dagger protruding from the man's stomach. "I did that," he said, bewildered. He licked his lips, tasting copper.

"You did," Ven agreed. She had blood all over her face and armour.

Harry gagged, bile rising in his throat. He turned and vomited. He stared in fascination as the vomit mixed with the blood that dripped off his hands. The fact that a part of him felt satisfied at the carnage horrified him. He wasn't supposed to feel this way, not after a death. Not after he'd helped kill someone.

"But you helped save my life," Ven said softly. When he didn't respond to her, she came closer and embraced him. Harry tensed, but when she didn't hurt him or let go, he leaned into her embrace, putting his head against the leather of her armour. She stroked his hair, speaking nonsensical reassurances. _Is this what having a mum feels like? _he wondered. When he stopped feeling so shaky, he let go of her. "Thank you."

Then she lightly punched his shoulder. "I told you to stay back, idiot. That was reckless and foolish, and you could have been killed," she said sternly.

"But you just said…"

"Doesn't make it any less true." She palmed her face, and then ran her hand through her hair, knocking back her hood. "They've gotten a lot more aggressive lately. I don't like them being so close to Windhelm. To hear Ulfric Stormcloak tell it, he knows everything that goes on in his territory. Lies. He's being played like a puppet."

"What does that mean?" Harry asked.

"I told you about the Civil War on the way here, right?" She pulled out a couple of potions. She drank one down and gave the other to him.

Harry nodded as he drank the potion she gave to him. Immediately, his throat felt better and the last lingering pain from his cold blisters went away. The potion tasted vaguely of bread, flower petals, and something else he couldn't identify.

"Well, the Thalmor are using a tactic Talos himself would be proud of: divide and conquer. Wait for two enemies to weaken one another, then when both are exhausted, eradicate them both in their weakness. It's useless and a waste of life and it appears I'm the only one who sees it."

"But you've tried telling everyone, right?"

Ven sighed. "It's complicated, Harry. Particularly since I'm a Bosmer. No one wants to listen to me."

"But why? I don't understand. Can't they see you're trying to save them?"

"Harry, Skyrim has seen war with elves many times over the years. In Cyrodiil, the Ayleids enslaved men to do their bidding. Many of the mer want dominance over men as divine right, believing that Mundus inhibits us. The wars are bitter and brutal. I've told you of Great War between the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion. This is just more of the same."

"But you're the _Dovahkiin_! Arngeir said it makes you someone people listen to!"

"The _Dovahkiin_ is a Nord legend, and so many people think that it should be a proper Nord, not a mer. I think it only makes it worse, honestly."

"What about me?" Harry asked.

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "You're too young. I won't have you used as a pawn between the Jarls. Besides, you're to leave anyway, as soon as we find the Elder Scroll, right?"

"Right," Harry nodded. He had to get back to Hogwarts. They had to be missing him by now, Maybe they were working from that end to try to get him back.

"Anyway, don't try to distract me. That was your first time you've ever seen someone killed?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted. He still felt sick just thinking about it. All that blood. He could still see the elven head rolling out of its helmet behind his eyelids when he blinked. He could feel the way the skin gave way under the blade.

His magic had been near useless. He didn't know very many offensive spells in the first place. His wand hand been knocked out of his hand, and he was lucky it hadn't snapped in the melee. Ven could do magic wandlessly, but even five days of practicing several hours hadn't helped teach him.

"I think it's about time I started to teach you how to survive here, the way only a Bosmer can. I'd start with archery, but you need basic in close quarters first. Now, while the fear of death is fresh on your mind. Retrieve your dagger and clean it." She tossed him a cloth.

"All right," Harry said. He looked at the dead elf. The wide glazed eyes of the corpse did nothing for his confidence. He pulled the dagger from his fingers. He winced at the sound it made leaving the man's stomach. He wiped the blood from the blade and walked back to Ven, who'd pulled out her own small dagger. Harry stood hip's-width apart, hand on his dagger. He used a forward grip, the blade facing Ven.

"Grip comfortable?"

"Yeah," Harry said nervously.

"Now!" Ven said, lunging at him. Harry ducked and ran. Ven followed, moving more slowly than she had in battle. She was easy to work around at first. With each successful block, she increased her speed. Soon, it was all he could do to keep her from cutting him. He couldn't keep this pace up much longer.

Harry faltered in his step, and Ven nicked him on the arm with her blade.

"Again!" Ven commanded. "On attack this time!"

Harry lunged forwards, and Ven easily tripped him, jabbing her elbow into his back and placing her dagger at his throat. He struggled to get away, but her full weight against his back was too much for his young body. Second time he'd had the problem today. "Call," she said, pressing it against his throat more firmly.

He used his legs to try to push off from the ground, but it only succeeded in making her place her knee on the back of his. "Call!" she said again.

He tried again, this time using his momentum to push his throat against the dagger. Ven pulled the dagger away, and he managed to escape.

"You show courage and creativity in battle, even from a compromised position," Ven said, sheathing her dagger. "But no good. Had you been facing an enemy, he would not have hesitated to kill you."

Harry nodded. "I understand." He wiped the sweat from his brow. He was exhausted. He'd been pushed further than he'd ever gone today. He tried to keep standing, but he was almost dead on his feet.

Ven had obviously noticed. She cast a small healing spell that erased the red line on his neck. "That's enough for right now. Why don't you go check on Alfsigr while I take care of the bodies? Curry her and set up camp. I'll be there as soon as I'm done here. We should reach Kynesgrove tomorrow."

Harry nodded again, already familiar with the chores of their travel routine. "You don't need help?" Harry asked. He really didn't want to, eyeing the corpses with no small measure of uneasiness.

"I'll take care of it." Ven said, so Harry walked away and began to work.


End file.
